Drums Along the Weyr
by Szabotage
Summary: Sequel to The Wind Beneath Her Wings. T'iya, green rider and thorn in the side of her Weyrlingmaster, must cope when a tragic accident happens during threadfall.


Drums Along The Weyr

By Maria Szabo

Disclaimer: The Dragonriders of Pern, its characters and settings is copyrighted to Anne McCaffrey and her heirs. This is a work of fanfiction and no profit is being made save that of enjoyment.

T'iya, green Ainanith's rider, was literally run off her feet. She had awakened with a neck slightly cramped from the odd position she had assumed sometime during the night, one of the few disadvantages of curling up to sleep next to her dragon. However, it made Ainanith happy to have T'iya close, and the rider hadn't the heart to deny such a simple request.

Besides, it was an excellent excuse for T'iya not to participate in the bed-hopping that was so common amongst those senior weyrlings mature enough to have such urgings. Lately, young E'fram had been making a pest of himself with his unwanted advances. She had distanced herself, not because the boy was ill-favored or unpleasant, or even because he was a few turns younger than her twenty-three turns, but because she couldn't see having an association that would last, at best, a few weeks.

Ainanith made some grumbles and shook her head as if to throw the weight of sleep from it. T'iya smiled on her dragon. Ainanith was swiftly maturing, and the time would soon come when T'iya would have no choice on who shared her bed, or how long it lasted. R'ada, another green rider at the weyr and her best friend, had warned her that she might want to take advantage of her freedom while she had it. There was no telling how ardent a green dragon might be upon maturity, nor what her character might be concerning the number of dragons who flew her. R'ada had been fortunate so far in that her Siyanth was enthralled by the brown Tomasth, and that Tomasth had managed to outfly every other dragon, including a few bronzes, each time she rose. R'ada had advised T'iya to look about, and had even mentioned a few riders whom T'iya might find interesting. T'iya had smiled at her friend's attempts at matchmaking, and simply made herself unavailable, throwing herself into her weyrling training. Ainanith's rising to mate was as inevitable as T'iya's betrothal to Gedran of High Reaches had been, and T'iya treated the matter in the same way—ignoring it. Her betrothal had worked itself out—young Gedran had been killed in some stupid brawl at a gather, and between the obligatory mourning period and other matters at the hold, her father had not had time to find her another husband before she had been searched to the Weyr. Ainanith's mating was also something T'iya couldn't control, and tried not to worry about.

Up and about, darling! We fly today.

I am awake. Will we fly with a wing this time, do you think? Ainanith longed to fly as part of a regular wing.

Doubt it. We'll deliver firestone, like we did last time. And the time before and the time before.

T'iya sighed. Ainanith wanted so badly to graduate from the weyrling wing, and they simply weren't ready. Six months after impressing the green dragon, T'iya had been struck with the scarlet fever, and then the coughing sickness right afterwards. It had taken her nearly a turn to recover fully, and her training had been interrupted. She had worked hard to make up for the lost time, but Ainanith had proved headstrong, and progress was slow. Still, the fact that she was now allowed to fly fall again, even if only to deliver firestone to the wings, showed that the pair were becoming proficient, even in the jaded eyes of High Reaches' strict Weyrlingmaster, A'ric. She heard him now, rousing the junior weyrlings from their bunks. Even the youngest dragons and riders would have some duty to help with threadfall! She rushed to the necessary before she would have to wait on the others, and then to the bathing room. If she washed now, her hair would be dry by the time it came to fly.

Once she had finished her morning routine, T'iya came out to see the senior barracks in full swing. The senior weyrlings slept in rows of bunks, whilst their dragons, being larger than the younger hatchlings, were allotted small alcoves along the walls of the cavern. The alcoves were too small to accommodate a rider and dragon as a weyr, but as a resting spot for a dragon alone, they sufficed. Now the weyrlings dressed, laying out flying gear so that it could be quickly thrown on after the flight preparations were made.

T'iya had changed into shirt, trousers and riding boots, with an insulating layer of underthings to protect her from chill. She looked in the small common mirror on the wall near her bunk and fluffed her short hair, willing it to dry quickly. She had been furious when the healer had cut her luxuriant, hip-length hair during her fever, but on later reflection, she realized for a rider of a fighting dragon, short hair was much more sensible. She kept her dark brown hair in a bowl cut that framed her face neatly, if not overly becomingly, and cursed the fact that she had been born without curls. She scowled at her reflection. Not conventionally pretty, with an olive complexion and prominent cheekbones, T'iya was tall and of medium build, with no extraordinary features to draw attention to herself. Not that beauty mattered, she thought, on the back of a dragon. In that, she was better off here in the weyr than she would have been in the hold that birthed her. In a better mood, she gathered her flying gear from her press, and began laying it out in order on her bunk.

"Ready for flight, today?" E'fram's jovial baritone rang out from behind her.

T'iya tried not to cringe. "Yes. Just laying out my gear."

E'fram came around her to look, nodding approvingly. He was a handsome, if baby-faced, lad, tall and nicely-muscled, with close-cut brown hair. He patted her shoulder encouragingly. "All in good shape. Not even A'ric could fault your gear."

He left his hand on her shoulder.

"He'd better not." She growled, bending down to position her flight gloves, shrugging off his hand while she did so.

"He's really got it in for you, doesn't he?"

"No, I don't think so." As much as A'ric angered her with his seemingly arbitrary punishments, T'iya had to admit the man was scrupulously fair in his dealings. "I excel at being out of line. And besides," she shot a glance at the bronze rider, "they're letting me fly fall today! I can't complain!"

E'fram nodded in agreement to that fact. Complaint would lose her that privilege. "And what are you doing afterwards?"

T'iya put a polite look on her face. "The usual. Eating, bathing, sleeping."

"Alone?" His eyes caught and held hers.

"With Ainanith, of course." Let him make of that what he will. "Look, I've got to go. I want to check on some of the juniors."

"Of course. See you later!" E'fram turned on his heel and headed towards the alcove holding his bronze Joneth.

He really likes you. commented Ainanith.

Yeah, right. He'll really like me until he gets me in his bunk. And then he'll really like the next girl he goes to.

You are being harsh.

T'iya had to laugh at her dragon. I'm being real. I've trained with him and seen him at work.

Joneth is a fine dragon.

T'iya stopped short. It's an innocent statement, she told herself. Ainanith likes all the dragons, except maybe Jatath, the Weyrlingmaster's bronze. I'm sure he is she finally replied, and left the matter at that. She needed to

check on the juniors.

She headed out of the senior's wing and glanced in the doorway of the junior's wing. No one there. A'ric must already have set them filling firestone sacks. She left the barracks and moved towards the weyrbowl, where a large group of weyrlings and other weyrfolk were loading the sacks. She peered at the group carefully, and finally saw T'drict's black curls. And there was Silirah, right by him as usual. She headed towards the two, smiling.

T'drict and Silirah both impressed dragons from the same clutch, a mere six sevendays ago. Bronze Patritath and green Cureth stood nearby their partners, watching the work with interest. Hatchlings and Riders kept in close contact at this time, strengthening the important bond between them. The senior weyrlings tended to take a junior weyrling or two under his or her wing, to ease them into the training. She had met T'drict the night Patritath had hatched, and despite her standing as the most disgraceful Weyrling in training, T'drict had automatically looked up to her for advice if A'ric or his assistants were busy elsewhere. Silirah, a friendly, vivacious girl from Tillek Hold, had formed a bond with T'drict as they were, at twelve turns apiece, the youngest of the new weyrlings, and T'iya had gone ahead and taken up with the girl as well.

"Hello, there!" T'iya greeted the two. "Oh, don't stop on my account. Just keep stuffing." Better them than me, she thought, a shade irreverently. She'd had enough of that duty over the past three sevendays.

"It's gotten easier." Silirah admitted, and continued at her work. The girl's hands were black with the rockdust, and she had a few smudges on her face where she had brushed back her hair.

"Is the Weyrlingmaster going to let you fly fall today?" asked T'drict. T'iya had been grounded for three sevendays after she had overflown Ainanith and nearly dashed her-self to death on the mountains surrounding the Weyr. T'drict had been more outraged by the decision than she had been. Ainanith had been too sore to fly for the first sevenday, and then A'ric had set T'iya on numerous and exhaustive exercises to help her gain more control over the headstrong dragon.

"Yes! I haven't disgraced myself lately, so I'm getting another chance. Hopefully this time Ainanith won't dive into anybody again." Especially the senior queen, Benath, who had had that honor the last time T'iya and Ainanith flew threadfall.

"You'll do great." T'drict grinned up at her, completely confident in the abilities of his friend. "But don't get chilled. Looks like it'll be a cold flight today."

T'iya stuck out her tongue at him. "Yes, mother. I'd better get Ainanith strapped up and ready to go. I'll come by and see you after the fall and tell you how it was."

"Thanks!" And T'drict bent diligently back to work.

He was a good child, T'iya thought, and would do very well in the Weyr. He had fit in without too much difficulty, and had the gift of pleasing without effort, a gift that she herself sorely lacked. Little Silirah had had a harder time of it, but T'iya had confidence in the girl, who was so sweet and open that no one, even the tyrannical A'ric, could be angry with her for long.

Ainanith. Are you ready for the fighting straps?

I'm always ready! replied the dragon fiercely, and T'iya chuckled. Ainanith was such a little hellion. The green rider headed back to barracks, to collect her gear and prepare her dragon. It would be a long Fall.

It was well into Threadfall, and Weyrlingmaster A'ric was pleased. The weyrling's wing, called Rosa, was flying very well. They kept position with the Verde wing, with the great queens, and flitted back and forth between the fighting wings above and the Weyr, delivering firestone. There had been a few minor scores, but no major injuries. As yet, he reminded himself sternly. Even green Ainanith was flying in a disciplined manner. He permitted himself a small smile. T'iya and her dragon had come a long way in the past six sevendays.

Piligath! Keep a fair distance! Jatath was keeping a close watch on the young ones.

What is it? asked A'ric.

Piligath's rider tires. She's flying in closer to compensate.

A common error. Piligath and K'tren had never flown a full fall. Should he pull K'tren back? A cold front was coming in over a warm area, and that made the flying rather choppy. A fresh weyrling in such weather might well make mistakes...

Piligath says her rider is fine.

Very well. But watch them, Jatath. If she flies close again, send her back to the weyr.

A tangle of thread that had missed the upper levels came snaking down towards them. Jatath dodged, and then charred the thread to cinder. A'ric patted his dragon approvingly. Nothing was quite so satisfactory as seeing one's dragon destroy thread!

Jatath gave the draconian equivalent of a chuckle. Meadeth's rider missed a throw.

A'ric sighed. He'd have to talk to Z'lok about that after the Fall. Missing a throw was stupid and dangerous and the boy should know better.

Thread comes this way.

Then let's take care of that, shall we? A'ric smiled approvingly as Jatath flew towards the clump and spit out more fire.

Ainanith burst from between into the midst of the wing. All around them, flame was being put to thread. T'iya took a deep breath, choking at the stench of the firestone.

Where's Nasrath? she asked.

Ainanith wheeled towards a blazing bronze. There!

T'iya released the bit of rope securing one of the firestone sacks Ainanith carried and with a deft movement, pulled the sack up into her arms. She looked towards Nasrath's rider and saw the hand sign for acknowledgement of her presence. Garnering her strength, she swung the sack towards the other rider. He caught it, and pulled the slipknot to open the bag. Ainanith swerved away.

Nasrath thanks us.

He's very welcome. Who's next?

Ysernth. The blue over there.

Let's go, girl!

Ainanith dived towards the blue, gracefully weaving through the patterned flight of the Blanco wing. T'iya pulled up another sack, swung and threw. The blue rider caught it, balanced the sack between his legs, and saluted his thanks. Ainanith swerved to the next dragon, cursing the chopping wind that threw the pair off balance.

That's quite a wind! And cold!

Let it come. Thread dislike cold.

Makes the flying harder. Are you holding up okay, darling?

Of course. Ainaniths sounded offended.

Who's taking the other side this time?

Piligath has the side, Joneth the back.

T'iya glanced over to the other line of dragons across the wing. Damn, Ainanith, she's taking that close. K'tren must be tiring. The weather's getting really strange.

Jatath knows. He watches, replied Ainanith, unconcerned.

That's a large clump going towards that edge. Let's get this side done. They may need us there in a minute. She pulled up another sack and tossed it towards the next dragon's rider. Ainanith can take it, she thought proudly. But she wasn't sure about little Piligath.

It wasn't often that a dragonrider would curse a cold front. The cold froze thread, and made the Fall safer to fly. But when a front came through during a Fall, A'ric thought, it made for dangerous flying.

Piligath is scored! burst Jatath. She goes between!

A'ric caught his breath. He should have pulled the girl out earlier. But she was flying in J'vin's wing, one of the best in the weyr, and should have been safe.

She appears. NO! Jatath bellowed a loud cry, and would have flown up to the next level, but for A'ric's command to stay in formation. The dragon complied, sullenly, concerned for the safety of his charges. Jatath was as much a weyrlingmaster as A'ric.

A'ric glanced around. Lavandra, the Weyrwoman, looked concerned, obviously listening to her Benath. He could see her frown in concentration. Then Benath swerved, as if in shock. Lavandra bent close to her dragon's neck.

Jatath? A'ric probed, concerned.

Piligath came out too close to Robith. They are between. A moment's silence. Then Jatath continued. Joneth came up from the back line and tried to help. He is badly scored.

Did they come back? A'ric set his mouth, hoping against hope that there would not be three lost that day.

No. Jatath's voice sounded as a whisper.

A'ric let out a curse. Who was the third weyrling sent to Blanco?

Ainanith. She was unhurt. She asks what she must do. Blanco adjusts for the hole in the line.

Tell her to keep bringing stone. Fall's too heavy over there. We'll fly up for the backlog. A'ric made quick calculations. Too late in the fall to pull out the grounded weyrlings. He would just have to take up the slack. He felt the familiar clench of his heart and tried valiantly to push it back.

The flight must finish. We cannot mourn as yet.

Tears struck A'ric's eyes as he realized his dragon was right. They winged upwards towards the Blanco wing.

Dizzily, her eyes blinded by tears, T'iya guided Ainanith to the bowl of the Weyr. The green dragon rather shakily landed, backwinging into place. T'iya bent over and hugged the great beast tightly, racked with sobs.

_Jatath lands_. commented Ainanith.

T'iya pulled off one of her gloves, moved up her eyepieces and wiped her eyes. Yes, there was the bronze Jatath, landing gracefully near where gold Benath and bronze Kalanth, the Weyrleaders' dragons, stood. The Weyrlingmaster vaulted off his dragon and swiftly strode towards J'ron and Lavandra. The Weyrleader had a look on his face that T'iya had never seen before, one that made him look far older than his years. Lavandra was practically shaking, and her Benath nuzzled her as if in comfort. J'ron, also, placed a comforting arm around her. Another rider approached as well, a man T'iya did not know...

_Meddeth's rider_. Ainanith said.

_Meddeth?_

_The bronze one. Over there. He led the wing_.

That would explain that. There was a curious bond between the bronze and gold dragons of a weyr and their riders. The other rider now comforted the weyrwoman, while J'ron turned on A'ric, his manner betraying the words that T'iya could not hear. She saw the Weyrlingmaster stiffen and glare back at the Weyrleader.

"T'iya?"

T'iya looked down towards the direction of the voice. Young T'drict stood below, one hand on Ainanith's fore-arm. Silirah stood beside him, her eyes awash.

"Out of the way. Let me slide down."

The children moved, and she loosed herself from her fighting straps and slid down the dragon's neck. No sooner had her feet hit the ground than Silirah threw herself in her arms. T'iya held the girl tenderly, stroking her hair, murmuring softly. T'drict looked on, concerned.

"What happened?" he asked. "The dragons just started keening..."

"They had to wait for the Fall to end." T'iya replied. "We lost three riders."

Silirah shook in her arms. T'drict gasped.

"Who?" he finally asked.

"F'rnet and Robith. K'tren and Piligath." her voice broke. "E'fram and Joneth." She choked back her tears. She needed to ease the children's cares right now, not worry about her own. "Can you help me with my straps, please?"

"Your straps?" replied T'drict, stupidly.

"Yes. My straps. I need to get them off, get the firestone stench off my Ainanith, get her oiled and my gear cleaned." Her lips pressed tightly together. "And then, you can help the others. Everyone will be needing a lot of help today. You must be strong."

Silirah looked up at her then, and she saw understanding in the child's eyes. The girl nodded at her, and walked over near Ainanith's head. "If you can throw them down," she said, "we can catch them for you and take them to the barracks while you wash Ainanith."

T'iya smiled fiercely. "Good girl. Let's do it." She pulled off her other glove, stuffed both in her belt, and began to loosen the fighting straps, absently wiping her tears against the sleeve of her riding jacket.

The look on J'ron's face was enough to kill. The Weyrleader strode towards the Weyrlingmaster, fists clenching as if he was trying to grasp hold of his anger.

"What happened?" J'ron asked, obviously trying to control his voice and not succeeding at all.

A'ric felt his back stiffen. "I'm not sure yet."

"You're not sure? We lose three dragons and you're not sure?"

"I wasn't at that level when the accident happened. I didn't see it, and Jatath is still in shock." A'ric wasn't going to take that tone from any man, even if he was the Weyrleader.

"J'vin!" J'ron turned to look for the Blanco wingleader, and saw him holding Lavandra against his shoulder. The Weyrleader's eyes narrowed. "Report!"

The young wingleader took a deep breath to steady himself. Lavandra patted him on the back encouragingly, and pulled out of his arms. "The little green..."

"Which?" interrupted J'ron.

J'vin shook his head. "I don't know.., the one that went between..."

"Piligath." supplied A'ric, taking pity.

"She was flying close. The rider was obviously tiring. The winds got worse, and then the fall came heavy over the east side of the wing." He put his hands over his eyes and took another deep breath. "The green... Piligath... took a clump of thread and went between. She came out too close to Robith. Fr'net is... was... a good rider, but there was no way those dragons could have avoided collision. They went between. Too quickly. Never came out."

"And? The other one?" J'ron asked.

"We took some scoring. The first accident distracted that side of the wing..."

"What kind of scoring?"

J'vin's eyes unfocused as he consulted with his dragon. "Meddeth says minor. But the weyrling in back..."

"Joneth." supplied A'ric, once more.

"Joneth. His rider brought him forward to help. But the gaps in the wing were allowing too much thread through, and I don't even think he saw that clump coming. Meddeth said the boy took the thread in the face."

All the riders present shuddered.

"And he went between?" prompted J'ron, after a long silence.

"Yes." answered the younger wingleader. "Wound like that doesn't make for good visualization. He must have panicked. They never came back."

J'ron nodded. He stood still, his fists still clenched against his side, his head bowed. He finally raised his eyes and regarded the wingleaders and queen riders who had gathered around the Weyrleaders. "See to your dragons and your riders." he said, dismissing them. "A'ric, J'vin, I want a full report by morning." He turned quickly and stomped off towards his dragon.

Lavandra gave J'vin's arm an encouraging squeeze. "Don't mind him." she said. "He's just really upset. We'll come by and talk to both of you later, after he's cooled down a bit. Three dragons..." she shivered, and then headed purposefully after the Weyrleader.

J'vin sank his head into his hands. A'ric touched his shoulder, concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

The wingleader nodded his head slowly, then stopped, then began to shake it from side to side. With an effort, he brought his hands back to his sides, brushing the tears away as he did so. "It's been a hard fall. We were lucky that we didn't sustain more damage than we did."

A'ric grunted his agreement, and reached his mind out to his dragon.

Jatath? The weyrlings?

They are seeing to their gear. Ainanith's rider set the younger ones to help. There was some scoring. Weyrhealer sees to the injured.

"Are the rest of the weyrlings alright?" spoke J'vin, concerned.

"Jatath says some scoring. He doesn't sound worried."

"What about the other green that was flying with our wing? Are they alright? Who was that, anyway?"

"T'iya and Ainanith..."

"Not That Green?" J'vin repeated Lavandra's appellation for the dragon incredulously. "I thought she was still grounded. You put her in my wing?"

"Problems with her flight, wingleader?" shot back A'ric, coldly.

"No, no. Not at all. I was just concerned. She flew beautifully. I was just surprised, after what I'd heard..." J'vin faltered. He'd obviously hit a sore spot.

"I felt her ready to return to duty. The Weyrleader

concurred. She didn't seem to panic during the accident..."

"No. Ainanith was obviously upset, but they stayed at

their duty."

"Good." A'ric considered for a moment, and continued. "I put her in your wing because you've got the most disciplined riders in the Weyr. If Ainanith had played one of her usual tricks, the wing would not have been badly disrupted. But Piligath..."

"You couldn't have seen that coming, A'ric." J' vin pursed his lips. "I just wish... this is terrible, but I just wish she hadn't taken Robith and Fr'net with her. And the other boy, coming forward like that without warning: that was just stupid. He didn't think."

"He paid for it." replied A'ric quietly. "I need to go see to my weyrlings."

J'vin waved him away. "I'll come by later, and get further information for the report. Maybe I can talk J'ron into consolidating it—no reason we need to have two."

"I hope you don't mind us stopping by the Barracks on the way.." R'ada said to her weyrmate as they headed towards the Weyrbowl. Evening had fallen and the glows cast odd shadows along the wall of the cave.

"No, no problem." P'regrin smiled at her. She looked lovely tonight, her redbrown hair hanging loosely in curls to her waist, her shapely figure outlined by an appropriately tight bodice. "I want to check on A'ric, anyway."

Remembering something, he checked his pockets. The mark pieces were still there. Marks were collected at the Weyrdance and offered to the families of the deceased.

"And you don't mind if we bring T'iya with us, do you?"

"No, that's fine. I'll even save her a dance, if you want."

"Oh, we are generous!" she teased. "That'd be nice. She's not really gotten a chance to meet many of the riders yet."

"Well, then. Introduce her. But..." and he swung her around to a dark enough corner "make sure those riders understand that you are taken!" He kissed her, and was gratified by her ardent response.

R'ada smiled up at him, a small dimple showing in her right cheek. "I'll think about it," she promised, her eyes glinting.

P'regrin gave her a mock-growl, and squeezed her tighter.

"Alright! Alright!" she kissed him quickly and then pulled away. Hand in hand, they came up to the entrance of the barracks.

"I'll go get her." R'ada said, and disappeared into the senior weyrling's quarters. P'regrin shook his head, smiling softly. He was glad that R'ada had found such a good friend in the Weyr. She'd been so lonely when she first transferred over from Igen. T'iya had been good for her, although he'd not gotten to know the girl very well himself. She was always polite and somewhat distant with him, although he'd tried his best to be friendly. He knew the girl could talk when she wanted to-she and R'ada chattered like wherries when they were together.

He headed towards the Weyrlingmaster's quarters,alongside the barracks. A'ric should be there, since it looked like the weyrlings were settled for the evening. He walked in the cavern, carefully, hoping not to disturb the sleeping Jatath. "A'ric?"

"Over here." replied the weyrlingmaster.

P'regrin stepped quietly towards the living quarters. His old friend sat at the table, bent over a piece of paper, writing furiously. P'regrin came up behind him and peered over his shoulder. "Paperwork?"

A'ric nodded and kept writing.

"You must have really worn those weyrlings out to-night. You can't hear a peep from the barracks."

"Hmm." He kept writing.

P'regrin wasn't going to give up that easily. "Blues and Greens dance tonight."

A'ric said nothing. He moved his hand up, to dip his pen into the nearby inkwell. P'regrin reached out his hand and placed it on A'ric's arm, preventing him. The weyrlingmaster looked up at him, wearily.

"Are you allright?"

He gave a grim smile. "Attack of the mother-hen?"

P'regrin snorted. "I'd have to take a number behind I'ndaren."

"True enough. He came by a few hours ago. What brings you here?"

"Just wanted to see that things were okay. Do you need anything?"

A'ric shook his head.

"You're sure?"

The weyrlingmaster shook his head. "I will be fine."

P'regrin thought on this a moment. "R'ada and 1 are going to see the weyrdance. Would you like to come with us?"

"Too much to do. Really, P'regrin. I'll be fine. It's not the first time I've lost weyrlings."

"No, but it's the first time you've lost so many at once." P'regrin ignored the glare A'ric shot at him. "Don't get mad. I'm just saying that you might want to get out of here for a few hours."

"The weyrlings need me."

"They're asleep, A'ric. You wore them out, remember? Tomorrow's a restday."

"No." A'ric said, firmly. When they were weyrlings, P'regrin could usually talk him into anything. Then, of course, A'ric would drag in I'ndaren, who was the most cautious of their group. And the three of them would end up with beasthold duty for whatever misadventure they had gotten into that time. "I'm weyrlingmaster now, P'regrin. I have to set the example. I can't just go out and get roaring drunk, no matter how much I want to or how much I need it."

P'regrin still looked worried. "But..."

"Look. I promise I will get out of quarters some time tonight. I'll walk about. I'll do something. Now will you stop worrying about me?" A'ric batted his hand towards him, as if shooing away an annoying insect. "Between you, J'ron, Lavandra and l'ndaren, not to mention Jatath, I can't get my work done."

"Sir?" came a voice from the outer chamber.

A'ric gave a reproving glance to P'regrin. "You see?" He stood and headed towards the outer chamber, P'regrin on his heels. "What is it? You should be asleep..." He stopped short.

T'iya stood there with R'ada, arrayed in a burgundy chemise, with a green skirt and an intricately embroidered bodice, looking nothing like the rough-and tumbled weyrling he knew. A'ric just stared. P'regrin whistled appreciatively.

"Permission to leave barracks?" she asked sedately.

The weyrlingmaster lowered his head, feeling much put upon. "How old are you again?"

"She just turned 23, A'ric." replied R'ada, "We'll be with her, she won't come to any harm."

"Ordinarily," A'ric began, and then stopped. The circumstances weren't ordinary. "Go on. Just stay out of trouble. Don't drink too much. Watch out for the bronze riders. Don't let me hear of any trouble. And be in early. Tomorrow will be a long day."

"Tomorrow is a rest-day." T'iya reminded him.

He waved the women out. "Get out of here." P'regrin moved past him, and A'ric grabbed his arm. "You watch out for her."

"Of course." The brown rider patted his shoulder and then ran to catch up with the women, draping an arm about each of them. A'ric turned back to the task of finishing hisreport of the accident. He would wander out later, he thought, and get some air, if nothing else.

As P'regrin guided R'ada and T'iya into the dining area where the riders were congregating, T'iya again wondered why she had agreed to come in the first place. She had never been one for crowds, although she loved dancing. But R'ada had insisted, and T'iya had not argued too strenuously. The atmosphere in the barracks had been oppressive with sorrow, and although T'iya had lain quietly in her usual spot by Ainanith, she had not been able to sleep. The death-scene still haunted her, especially poor E'fram and Joneth taking a large clump of thread straight on. They had sought relief between, but evidently either Joneth or E'fram was too badly wounded to come back. The sorrow welled up, and threatened to overcome her again. Ruthlessly, she pushed it back down. R'ada was right. Perhaps distraction was what she needed. And T'iya had never seen a weyrdance, although such things had been whispered about in the hold, each tale more embellished than the last.

They had arrived rather late. The tables had already been pushed to the far end, and there were a large number of riders present, many of them well into their wine. It seemed to T'iya to be almost like a rather wild gather, except that there was a desperate air about the room, not the convivial feeling found on gather occasions. She saw the Weyrwoman seated at the end of the room, on top of one of the tables, surrounded by a circle of men. Bronze riders, she assumed. She wondered again about A'ric's warning regarding the bronzes. "Watch out for the bronze riders." Why? He was a bronze rider, too.

"What do you think?" asked P'regrin, startling her. She looked up and shook her head.

"We've hardly been here long enough for her to form an opinion. Here," R'ada pointed to a well-attended wine casket towards the center of the room. "Go get us some-thing to drink. I'll introduce her about."

P'regrin looked amused at R'ada's bossiness and went.

"Men. C'mon, there are some riders from my wing over there." R'ada slipped her arm around T'iya's shoulder and led her towards a group of men standing nearby. "I hope that wine is Benden."

"I like Tillek." ventured T'iya, already feeling nervous. She didn't like crowds, or strangers, for that matter.

"Really? Then you're a braver woman than I."

One of the men, a short, slender man with a coffee-colored complexion, noticed them. "R'ada! Did you finally wise up and decide to leave that good-for nothing weyrmate of yours?" He winked.

"You'll be the first to know, J'far. I promise. Oh, by the way, this is..."

"I know her. Taiya, right?"

T'iya smiled and nodded. 'T'iya."

"That's right. You Impressed that... green, wasn't it?" "Ainanith. Yes."

"I almost didn't recognize you without all that hair. Looks good though."

"Thank you."

"Wait a bit." interrupted R'ada, eyeing T'iya suspiciously. "I thought you said you didn't know most of the riders."

T'iya shrugged. "I know him."

J'far laughed. "I searched her. You've heard me tell the story—the holder girl who walked off with my dragon?"

The riders all laughed. T'iya looked embarrassed. "And how is lagoth?" she countered.

"Very well, thank you. I'll tell him you asked about him."

"Do you know the others here?" asked R'ada. "This is P'ton, our wingleader. And L'vin, Z'don, V'nal and H'lan. This is T'iya, green Ainanith's rider."

The men murmurred greetings. T'iya smiled, blushed, and shrank beside R'ada. The other woman glanced at her curiously. J'far took pity.

"R'ada, go get that girl some wine. And promise me a dance. You too, T'iya."

After giving a shy smile all around, T'iya took a quick leave. R'ada caught up with her.

"What was that about?"

"I'm not good with strangers, R'ada."

"Those aren't strangers. They're my wingmates."

"I wouldn't know what to say to them." T'iya found a quiet spot amongst the tables and sat down. R'ada plopped down beside her.

"I don't know what your problem is. They're harmless. Well, except for maybe H'Ian, but what else do you expect from a bronzerider?"

T'iya looked over at her friend. "I don't understand that. A'ric said something about watching out for the bronzeriders earlier. What do you mean?"

R'ada stifled a laugh. "It's a stereotype. Unfortunately all to often borne out. The bronzeriders tend to be outrageous womanizers, and not too faithful, either. They'll usually try to blame it on their dragon, saying that their bronze is devoted to such-and-such a queen, and therefore, while a green flight is occasionally acceptable, they really can't make a commitment." She shook her head. "They're not all like that. But you do have to watch out for them. Now, why didn't you tell me you were the holder girl who walked off with J'far's dragon?"

"You never asked." T'iya smirked and waggled an eyebrow. Soon both women were laughing.

The line of people waiting for access to the wine casket was moving far too slow for P'regrin's taste, but he bore the wait patiently. Someone had already started with the drums, and more drummers would soon pick up the beat. He wanted to get back to R'ada, before some other rider pulled her into the dance. Dancing with R'ada was a rare pleasure, and one to be savored.

"Slipped the chain tonight, have you?"

"I'ndaren! Good to see you!" He embraced his old friend. The blue rider flew in a different wing from himself and R'ada, so P'regrin did not see as much of him as he'd like. I'ndaren was a tall, slender man, although a few inches shorter than himself, with wavy blond hair that he tended to wear short. He had rather sharp features and piercing light blue eyes, which seemed to take in every-thing around him.

"Hoped I might see you here. A'ric said you had stopped by."

"He should be here." l'ndaren sounded worried. But then, thought P'regrin, he always sounded worried.

"You know he's had a board up his back since he was made weyrlingmaster. Must set a good example and all that." P'regrin reminded him, sounded a bit disgusted.

I'ndaren snorted. "As if."

"You know what we ought to do. We ought to get him away from the Weyr one day, and get the weyrlings together, and just tell them stories about our days in training."

The other man burst into laughter. "He'd kill us. It'd be worth it, but he'd kill us."

They had reached the front of the line. "Three." said P'regrin, and the woman attending the casket began to fill three mugs. "And one for my friend here."

"Thanks." replied I'ndaren. "I take it R'ada is here somewhere after all. Who's the other one for?"

"T'iya." P'regrin handed the woman at the table a half-mark piece.

I'ndaren frowned slightly. "Name sounds familiar..."

"You know. That weyrling with the green that A'ric's always complaining about. She and R'ada are like this." he crossed his fingers in demonstration.

"Not That Green?"

"The same. Have you never met her?"

"No, not really. I saw her after her dragon fell, but I didn't get a good look. I was too angry—damn green almost ran over Irrusith." l'ndaren grimaced. "And what does he do? Goes and saves her life. Now he's entranced by the creature. Sits on the rim and watches her fly around when the weyrlings are practicing."

"Sounds serious." teased P'regrin.

"A serious pain in the ass is what it is. But he'll get over it." The mugs had been filled and were on the table. "Do you need help carrying these over?"

"Sure. Here." P'regrin handed I'ndaren two mugs, took the other two, and then scanned the room. "There they are." He led the other rider to the edge of the room, weaving past the people in the way like a dragon flying a fighting pattern. R'ada and T'iya sat watching the dancers—R'ada with longing, T'iya with her feet tucked under her skirt.

"Sorry it took so long," he said, handing R'ada the other mug in his hand. "The line was unbelievable. l'ndaren came to help me out, though."

R'ada accepted the mug, and waved at the new arrival. "Hello, I'ndaren. Just hand that other mug to T'iya. You do know her, don't you?"

I'ndaren looked down at T'iya, who had looked over when she heard her name mentioned. He shook his head, and she smiled up at him, accepting the proffered mug. "No."

"Oh, well. May I introduce you? T'iya, this is I'ndaren, blue lrrusith's rider. I'ndaren, this is T'iya, green Ainanith's rider." R'ada performed the ritual flawlessly.

The two riders just looked at each other. P'regrin waited for one or the other to say something, but when neither did, he went on. "Irrusith was the blue who helped out when Ainanith overflew a while back."

T'iya nodded. "I thought the name sounded familiar. I remember thinking I would have to find his rider so that I could apologize." She looked back up at I'ndaren. "I apologize, if it does any good."

"No harm done." he replied, and then fell back into silence.

P'regrin caught R'ada glance. She wanted to dance, yet obviously, she felt awkward about leaving T'iya alone. He sidled up to the blue rider and whispered,

"Hey, would you mind keeping T'iya company for a bit while we dance?

She doesn't really know anyone around here and..."

I'ndaren laughed. "Go ahead."

P'regrin grinned back at his friend and held out his hand to his weyrmate.

"T'iya, could you guard our drinks? And stay away from those bronze

riders!"

The woman laughed, and placed their mugs on the table beside her. "Go on. Just don't drop her."

He looked at R'ada accusingly. "You told."

R'ada threw back her head. "So? Redeem your reputation." She tapped T'iya's hand. "You'll be okay? I'ndaren's good people."

"I'll be fine. Go have fun."

With a whoop of triumph, P'regrin wrapped his arm about R'ada's waist and led them into the dance.

T'iya watched her friends dance off, irritated at them for leaving her stranded with a distinctly unfriendly stranger and annoyed with herself for being irritated at them. She took another swig of her wine—Tillek, by the aftertaste. Good. Today's sorrow needed the sharpness of Tillek, not the smoothness of Benden. The open area in the middle was now filling with people, men and women dancing wildly. There were more drums playing as well—their beat reverbating throughout the Weyr. She started as a man seemed to whirl in the air and then came diving down back into the crowd.

"What was that?" she asked the man next to her.

"Acrobatics." replied I'ndaren, then lapsed back into silence.

He wasn't quite ignoring her, T'iya realized. He was staring at her, but not saying a word. She felt distinctly uncomfortable.

"Um. Have you know P'regrin very long?"

"We were weyrlings together." Another silence.

"And...?"

"He got all of us in trouble more times than I can count."

The man was being difficult. "All of us?"

"Himself, A'ric and I."

T'iya grinned at the thought of the high-and-mighty A'ric doing beasthold duty. "Really. Tell me more."

That reached him. I'ndaren tightened his jaw and shook his head. "You give A'ric enough problems without me helping out."

"And what's that suppose to mean?"

"That reckless flying of yours is going to get someone killed—just like that stupid weyrling did today..."

"That stupid weyrling was my friend..."

"That stupid weyrling crashed into Fr'net and Robith because she couldn't control her green..."

"Herdshit! I was there. She tired out—she should have been pulled..."

"Don't you try to throw the blame on A'ric... he's no more responsible for this than he was for your damn green trying to run over my Irrusith!" He finished the phrase with almost a snarl.

"Oh, ho. So that's what this is really about! I said I was sorry..."

He just growled.

"I bet Irrusith has forgiven me."

"Dragons don't always show a lot of sense."

She glared at the rider and threw back the rest of her wine. "Excuse me." she said, feeling a little dizzy from drinking the wine too quickly. She slammed the mug down on the table and made her way into the whirl of dancers.

The nerve of that man—he didn't even know her, and to talk to her that way? So her Ainanith was a little high-spirited. So she did almost run down his blue. So she did almost collide with the Weyrwoman's queen. So she was the most intractable weyrling dragon in known history. What did he want—that she should die, the way E'fram and K'tren had? Seeing nothing but red, she trod along quickly, felt something under her boot, and lost her balance.

"Ouch, my foot!" the man beside her complained. She fell against him, and he tumbled to the floor, T'iya landing square on his chest. She moved off quickly and helped the man back to his feet, to the amused applause of the bystanders.

"I'm sorry..." she began.

He stopped her. "I know you."

Startled, she looked up at him. He was a very hand-some man, in his thirties she guessed, very nicely dressed. And that, if she was not mistaken, was a pick-up line. "Yeah, I bet you do." She made to leave.

"No, I do. Silirah pointed you out once."

That stopped her. "Silirah? You know her?"

"She's my cousin." He put out his hand. "I'm G'ronwy, by the way, rider of blue Bereneth."

She took the hand absently. "Pleased. Silirah has mentioned you, but I've been so busy..."

"Yes, I remember life as a weyrling. It does get better, trust me. Care to dance?"

Without waiting for an answer, he slipped an arm around her waist and whirled her back into the crowd.

"I've been very grateful that you've helped Silirah the way you have. It's hard adjusting to weyr life."

T'iya laughed, a bit joylessly. "No kidding."

"Relax, you're too tense. You can't dance like that... I'm harmless. Ask anyone." G'ronwy smiled approvingly as she eased up a bit. "That's better. Now, who's the problem?"

"Huh?"

"Who's the problem? It's a man, I can tell."

"No, really, I'm..."

"C'mon, who is it?" I-le batted his eyes at her appealingly and she had to laugh. "Does that mean you'll tell me?"

"OK. It was I'ndaren. He said some pretty nasty things..."

"Nasty nasty or mean nasty? Not that I can see I'ndaren saying either..."

"Mean. My green nearly ran over his blue."

"Whoops."

"He's evidently still angry."

"Yes, darling, I can assure you he is. We fly in the same wing, he and I, and you should have heard the invective coming from that boy the day you fell out of the sky. Now, don't mind him—he's really very nice, just rather overprotective. You threaten his dragon and one of his best friends..."

"I didn't mean to. What best friend?" T'iya was having a bit of a time keeping up with the blue rider's steps—he was a very good dancer.

"The Weyrlingmaster. Your antics have gotten A'ric in a bit of hot water with the Weyrleaders, and I'ndaren takes that rather personally. That boy really does need to get a life."

"I'ndaren or A'ric?"

G'ronwy let out a burst of laughter and swung T'iya around. "Oh, you are a treasure! You really must let me know when that green of yours is ready to fly—it would almost be worth it!"

Before T'iya could grasp the tenor of that remark, another hand grabbed about her waist and pulled her out of G'ronwy's arms.

"My turn, blue boy." J'far's dark face smiled at her. G'ronwy smiled and bowed and waved a farewell to T'iya before dancing off into the crowd. "Wondered where you went off to. Still can't get to R'ada, but you promised me a dance, too."

"So I did." she turned her head towards the departing G'ronwy. "Is he always that forthcoming?"

"Blue boy?" J'far laughed. "Oh, yeah. He'll talk your ear off. Don't look for anything else out of him, though."

"I don't understand."

He rolled his eyes. "G'ronwy doesn't go for the females, if you know what I mean."

T'iya knew. One of her cousins had been killed for being of that inclination.

"I, however..." J'far continued, and gave her a friendly leer. She laughed at him and spun in the dance.

Several dances later, T'iya was beginning to get dizzy. J'far had been an excellent partner, and had surrendered her to other members of the Amarillo wing, who had been kind enough to let her dance and not make extraneous conversation. P'regrin had partnered her for a while, before disappearing with R'ada. There seemed to be little music, just continuous drumbeats, reverbating so that she could feel them to her bones. Before she could be swung into another dance, she backed out of the crowd and headed for a table, weaving slightly. She collided with something hard.

"Whoa, watch it—oh, no!" a male voice uttered. The rider, a medium-sized man with hair the dark-brown color of her own, brushed at the wet spot on his shirt where the wine he was carrying had spilt.

"Oh, I'm sor..sorry."

"That's okay."

She turned to leave when another hand grabbed her shoulder, pulling her around roughly. She looked into the rather wild eyes of a short, dark-haired man.

"What's that weyrling knot?" he demanded.

"Huh?"

"You're a weyrling?"

"Yeah."

"And you're showing your face here, after what happened?"

"What?"

The angry rider grabbed the collar of her shirt and pushed her up against the wall. "Fr'net is dead because of you!"

"You let me go."

A hard blow rang across the side of her head. She staggered, trying to get away, but her shirt was still caught by the rider's other hand. A number of other riders noticed what was going on and began converging on them.

"G'nan! Stop it!"

"Let her go!"

"G'nan, come on."

Hands reached over trying to pull the other rider away from her. T'iya felt righteous anger glow hot within her. The rider had loosed her shirt, but was taking another swing at her. She blocked the shot with one hand, grabbing his arm and pulling him into her oncoming knee. She then brought her elbow down on the back of his neck. The rider fell over, groaning.

"I didn't kill him!" she said, her voice shaking. "It was an accident."

The rider who had spilled wine all over himself pulled her away quickly.

"M'kol, make sure G'nan is alright and get him out of here."

Another man, obviously M'kol, nodded grimly and bent over the fallen G'nan.

"You." said the wine-stained rider. "Come with me."

"It wasn't my fault." she said.

"I know that." he replied. "I saw what happened. Don't look so worried, I'm not going to report you." He smiled as she visibly relaxed. "I just want to get you away from G'nan. Fr'net was his weyrmate, and he's not taking this well. I'm J'vin, by the way. Meddeth's rider."

"T'iya, Ainanith's rider. And I'm sorry for knocking over your wine."

J'vin blinked. "You're T'iya?"

"If you heard it, it's probably true." she replied.

The man gave a sad smile. "You flew well with our wing today. It's just, well, it's hard to lose a rider you've fought beside for years. A'ric know you're here?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's okay, then." He led her to the wine casks, and asked for a refill for his mug.

"Let me pay for that..." insisted T'iya.

"No, that's not necessary..."

"Yes it is. I ran into you." She handed a quartermark piece to the woman attending the cask. "Here. And another for me, please."

J'vin accepted the filled mug. "Thank you." A small bronze firelizard suddenly appeared above and landed on his shoulder, giving the wine an interested look. "No, Coo-Coo, that is my wine... stop that!" The lizard crawled down his arm and stuck his face into the mug, making a happy chirp. J'vin looked apologetically over to T'iya.

"His manners are atrocious. Did you really almost collide with Benath?"

T'iya laughed. "I did. Ainanith and I are better at flying now, though. Need some work on formation flying, but we're getting there."

"Formation flying is tough." agreed J'vin. "Have Ainanith talk to Meddeth if she needs some pointers—he's got a gift for that, and he'd just love having a new green to talk to."

"I'll do that."

J'vin was suddenly taken hold of by an auburn beauty, who spun him around and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Can't leave you alone for five minutes. Where in the world did you get that stain on your shirt? Let's dance!" Lavandra was nothing if not overwhelming.

J'vin looked nervous and nearly spilt his wine again.

"Oh, finish your drink first. What happened to you?" the Weyrwoman switched her attention over to T'iya, who was trying to quietly sidle away.

T'iya caught J'vin's warning glance. "I, ah, I ran into a door."

Lavandra's eyes looked sharply at her, but she demanded no further explanation. "You're T'iya. How is That Green of yours?"

"Ainanith is doing well—she was very upset today. She's sleeping now."

"Hm. They all are. Sorrow takes a lot out of a dragon." The other woman's cheerful facade slipped, and T'iya saw the concern underneath. "J'ron's delivering word to the families. It's a thankless task, but he feels it's his job." Lavandra sounded worried. She noticed T'iya's regard, then slipped back into her mask of cheerfulness. "J'vin here says you did well today. Keep up the good work."

The green rider, shocked, didn't say anything.

"And don't run into any more dragons." Lavandra winked. "J'vin, shall we?" She led the bronze rider out towards the dance floor.

T'iya leaned back against the table and finished off her wine. She'd had too much, she knew, but her dance partners had kept offering it to her, and she felt rude refusing. She was beginning to feel rather giddy, and realized that she'd better find R'ada and P'regrin and call it a night. She looked around, but couldn't see either of them. She wandered out among the crowd of dancers, hoping they might be there, but had no luck. She saw J'far at the end of the

room, with a bunch of riders practicing outrageous acrobatics, and J'vin dancing with Lavandra. Maybe G'ronwy would know—she saw the blue rider at a table, and made towards him, but realized he was in a rather intense conversation with a very nice looking young man and didn't look like being interrupted. A familiar looking rider passed by, and on impulse, she grabbed his arm.

"H'lan, right?" she asked, recognizing him as one of R'ada's wingmates, a tall, handsome man with a sensual face and chestnut colored hair.

"Hmm? Yess?" He smiled down at her. She realized he was very drunk.

"Have you seen R'ada or P'regrin lately?"

"They left." he grinned lasciviously. "Had better things to do."

"Oh. Thanks." She turned to go. She'd just make her own way back to the barracks.

"Leaving?" he asked, taking her arm.

"Yes, I have to go. Long day tomorrow, you know." she started walking.

He kept pace beside her, his arm entwined with hers. "Tomorrow's a rest day. I will escort you back."

"You don't have to..."

"Oh, the corridors of the weyr aren't safe on a night like this. A lovely lady like yourself... anything might happen."

Her mind was too garbled to argue. She shouldn't have had that last glass of wine. She started laughing.

"What?" asked H'lan, smiling down at her suggestively.

"Nothing. How do I know I'm safe from you?"

His eyes gleamed. "You don't." They left the room, and walked down the hall towards the barracks. The roll of the drums followed them out. It made a strange counter-point to the click of their boots as they walked.

She was feeling oddly giddy. "You're a bronzerider, aren't you?"

H'lan's arm snaked around her waist. "That's right."

"A'ric said to watch out for the bronze riders." For some reason, she found this very amusing.

H'lan laughed too. "He was right."

T'iya suddenly found herself pulled against the taller man. "You see, pretty green riders like yourself are just too much for us to resist..." One hand held her close, while the other began to explore her figure. T'iya squeeked in protest. The rider laughed. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

He tightened his arms and kissed her.

A'ric had finally decided to take a break. The wild drums echoing along the cavern did not do much for his concentration. He checked on Jatath, who was thankfully dozing, and headed out towards the weyrbowl. The cool air would help clear his thoughts.

Two weyrlings and a rider—the toll was high today, he thought as he made his way out of his quarters. It was at times like these that he hated his position. Fr'net was older than he, so A'ric had not trained him. But he could clearly see the boisterous E'fram, teasing the younger weyrlings and following true bronze-rider tradition by chasing every skirt within range. The boy would have made a good wingleader, had he lived. K'tren had been a warm girl, although a little too warm, perhaps—A'ric had had to administer the "pregnancy" lecture to her more than once. She would just listen, looking up with those deceptively innocent eyes, and then wander off to warm yet another rider's bed. And now... he wondered why it was he could go through whole groups of weyrlings without a scratch, and then suddenly lose—how many had it been this turn—six? Seven? Not counting T'iya's numerous near-misses. But that one was a law unto herself.

He saw the couple in the shadows and would have politely ignored them, but as he drew closer A'ric recognized the festive dress that T'iya had worn earlier that evening.

"There," the man was saying. "That's not so bad, is it?"

"I don't... I don't think I want... stop that... to do this." she replied, obviously trying to politely extract herself from the man's arms. "Will you... please... we're in public..."

The man snickered. "Well, then, sounds like we need some privacy." His lips moved down her neck, while his hand tried to coax her chemise a little lower. "Why don't we head over to my quarters? I can show you all kinds of things about bronze riders…"

A'ric had seen enough. He pulled her abruptly out of the man's arms, and locked an arm around her to steady her. "She's going home with me tonight, H'Ian."

T'iya looked up into the coldly smiling face of the Weyrlingmaster.

"Hi!" she said.

H'lan glared. "Find your own green!" He grabbed her arm and started to pull her back.

"Not tonight." A'ric countered, keeping a tight hold of the girl. "T'iya, thank him for his escort."

"Thank you for your escort." she dutifully repeated, smiling politely.

"Now let's go." A'ric took T'iya's arm and led her firmly away. H'lan stalked off in the other direction, muttering.

"So what happened to P'regrin and R'ada?"

"They left. They had 'better things to do'."

"Not that way, that's a wall. So they left you there?"

"Um. I didn't see them. H'lan said they had gone." T'iya giggled. "Was he going to seduce me?"

"Probably." They had come out of the tunnel into a better-lit part of the weyr. "Don't you ever listen? I told you to watch out for the bronze riders."

"You're a bronze rider."

"I don't take advantage of drunken women."

"I'm not... not.. drunk," she stated as if it were fact.

"Could have fooled me. No, we are not going to the lower caverns. The

barracks are this way."

"Why would he want to sleep with me? We just met." Rich brown eyes looked up at him in honest confusion. Her lips were a little swollen from H'lan attentions. And her cheek... he stopped abruptly, and took her chin in his hand, turning her face to the nearby glow-light.

"Where did you get this bruise? Who did this to you? H'lan?"

She couldn't stop laughing. "G'nan. He was Fr'net's weyrmate."

"I thought I told you to stay out of trouble."

"I did." she started walking, or rather weaving, towards the barracks. A'ric caught her arm again, and guided her towards his quarters. "I don't know why everyone thinks I'm a troublemaker when I'm not."

"Could have fooled me." he muttered. "Come on."

She pulled away, petulant. "Lemme go. I want Ainanith."

"Oh, no, you don't. I'm not having you wake the others. You can sleep in my weyr tonight."

"I don't want to sleep with you." she protested. "I want to sleep with my dragon."

"Too bad." he yanked her into his weyr and past the sleeping Jatath.

"There's a sleeping couch in here. Sit down. I'll get a fur for you."

"Your friend is a dimwitted wherry." she replied, as if following another conversation. She laid back, finding the couch comfortable.

"Take off your boots first. What friend?"

"I'ndaren. I don't care if he is good looking. He yelled at me. Did I really get you in trouble with the Weyrleaders?" she sat up, and began to undo her bodice.

"Trouble with the Weyrleaders?" A'ric sounded startled. "Nothing I can't handle. Whoever gave you that idea? " He came towards her with a sleeping fur and threw it on the couch. He noticed the loosened bodice. "What are you doing? Keep that thing on. Take off your boots."

"You ever try sleeping in one of these?" she countered, and pulled the bodice off, sighing with relief. "I have my shirt on." She leaned over to untie her boots and her chemise sagged dangerously.

A'ric made an exasperated sound. "I'11 do it. Foot, here." He pulled off one boot. "Other foot." he repeated the procedure. "Now, go to sleep."

"I'm sorry if I got you in trouble." she said, wrapping herself in the fur.

He shook his head. "Part of the job." he replied. "At least you're alive."

"Wasn't your fault..." she murmured sleepily. "Wind was choppy and K'tren flew too close. You couldn't do anything about it. I was right there and you couldn't have done anything about it. It was an accident."

A'ric looked down at the green rider for a long moment, marking the patterns that her short dark hair made against her skin. He tucked the fur closer around her. "So it was. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow's a long day."

She closed her eyes, smiling. "Tomorrow is a rest day."

FIN


End file.
